Lacrimosa
by River of Oblivion
Summary: The silent language of grief...Second in the Lamentations series.


_**Disclaimer: **__Well, what do you know? I haven't gained the rights to the show in the last few days; I'm just doing what TPTB apparently have no time for._

_**Summary: **__This is the second insert in the "Lamentations" series. It takes place sometime after "Lifeline" and before "Missing," so there are _**spoilers**

_**A/N: **__Thanks to my best friend for being an awesome beta! Enjoy the story! Reviews are my muse's air._

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"_The bright day is done,  
And we are for the dark."_

_-Shakespeare_

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The nights on M35-117 lasted longer than those on Atlantis' home world. Rodney had said it was because this planet was somewhat uneven so the sun in the solar system cast a particularly long shadow across their hemisphere. McKay did a lot of explaining these days…probably to hide his inability to understand things that could not be explained, like grief and heartache and how the loss of a single person could shatter a whole city.

She was no stranger to the concept of loss; in fact, she was rather well acquainted with it. Since she was very young she had had friends and family taken from her, some by the Wraith, and others by illness and wars. It never got any easier for her though; she felt things too deeply to be hardened against the sorrows of life. She was not sure if that was a gift or a curse; but at the moment, it seemed more like the latter. Learning what had transpired on the Asuran home planet had brought back visions of her father being swept up in a Wraith Dart, of Charin as she fell asleep for the last time, of Carson, Doctor Hewston, Peter Grodin, and all of her people who had died under her leadership. The faces of the Athosian children crying for their parents, parents who they would never see again, haunted her as she lie awake in bed that first night on their new planet; and her face, the face of the woman who had given everything she had for the people of this city, was the last thing she had seen before she'd finally fallen asleep.

She had asked Colonel Sheppard if he wished to join her in a ceremony her people had for honoring their fallen leaders. John's face had turned to stone and he had informed her in no uncertain terms that the leader of Atlantis had not fallen anywhere, and there was no sense in having a service for someone who was not dead.

She had always seen his optimism as a great strength, and it had helped her through dark times in the past; but this time, she feared Sheppard was in denial. She wished with all her heart that their comrade was still alive, but deep in her heart of hearts, she knew the odds were not good; and she simply couldn't believe that the universe would be that gracious. So she had held her ceremony and Ronon had joined her because he, like her, knew just how unforgiving life really was; they had both been scarred by broken dreams and shattered hopes too many times to think this one time they would be spared.

She missed her friend… a lot more than she let on. On Sunday afternoons, she went and sat at their accustomed table in the mess hall with a cup of Athosian tea and remembered conversations about relationships, loss, heartache, and hope. They were both women and they were both leaders; and having those attributes in common, they had quickly become close companions. Now that one of them was missing, the remnant felt that old familiar loneliness tugging at her soul.

Her team was not really coping with the loss of their leader all that well either. She knew Rodney was grieving even as she was, and that the scientist felt he was responsible for what had happened; he worked even later than usual in his lab and drank more coffee to make up for it, which made him more irritable and high-strung. Ronon had taken to running through the endless hallways of the city at night and spending hours at a time in the training room during the day. On the surface, John seemed to be fine; he had gone back to laughing and flirting with women off world, relentlessly teasing McKay, and taking the Puddlejumpers for joyrides. He had even organized a couple of movie nights with his team and a few other friends.

To anyone else it would seem that Sheppard was dealing with the events on Asuras pretty well; but she knew better. She knew that when he flew the Jumpers it was because he wanted to be left alone, that during the movies his attention would wander and he would think about who was not there, that when he was smiling at those other women he could only see soft brown hair and sparkling green eyes. In many ways it felt as though she had lost two friends to the Asurans, one bodily and the other through the dissolution of half his soul. That was a crime she could never forgive the replicators for; and though at first she had been willing to give the machines the benefit of the doubt, she now loathed them as strongly as she did the Wraith. At least the Wraith had a reason for behaving the way they did; the only thing driving the Asurans was hate and jealousy.

She only hoped her friend had not felt the brunt of that wrath for too long…that she had passed quickly and felt as little pain as possible. Unfortunately, that probably was not the case.

So while Sheppard and Rodney were busy looking for ways to rescue their leader, she and Ronon were busy quietly thinking of ways to punish those who had taken her.

In Athosian society, the penalty for kidnapping was the removal of a hand, to symbolize the loss of the wrongdoer's ability to commit the crime. The penalty for murder was death of the killer in a public execution. When there was a war, however, the rule was that there were no rules; and whether or not Atlantis as a whole was officially at war with the Asurans, she was already embattled against the machines. Always, in the back of her mind, was the desire to exact justice for the untimely demise of their leader. Atlantis' resident Satedan was her silent but strong supporter, and the two of them shared a deeper connection than ever, forged by their common loss as well as their mutual wishes.

She knew that others thought she was as immoveable and unbreakable as stone. They believed that she was largely untouched by the events of the past month. Major Lorne had even mentioned how impressed he was by her composure; and Colonel Carter had called her a pillar of strength. She certainly did not feel strong; she felt weary and sad, downtrodden and desperately clinging to that which her fellow leader and friend had had so much of: hope.

But she could not stop fighting because her cause, as well as the causes of her lost comrades, endured. Until the galaxy was safe, or the last drop of her blood was spilled, she would not stand down. She would not falter in her steps, nor let herself rest until the last enemy had fallen; if that meant losing her life…then so be it. If the ultimate price was indeed hers to pay, she only hoped that she could possess the gracious selflessness shown by those who had sacrificed themselves for love.

After all, she had a hard act to follow.


End file.
